


Special Collections

by cowboykylux



Category: Paterson (2016)
Genre: Date Night, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Libraries, Paterson Is Just So Soft And Sweet, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25595806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: It's your turn to pick what you and Paterson should do for your Sunday date, and you're keeping it a surprise -- one that you're sure Pat is going to love.
Relationships: Paterson (Paterson)/Reader, Paterson (Paterson)/You
Kudos: 6





	Special Collections

Paterson isn’t a very impatient person, not usually. He’s easy going, content to simply move with the flow of life. He finds excitement in the quiet moments of the day, and that’s something you love about him dearly. So to see him so fidgety and excited, fingers tapping on the steering wheel with impatience is a rare sight.

“Where are we going?” Paterson asks for the sixth time in the short drive, making you smile and shake your head.

You pretend there’s a zipper over your mouth and close it, throwing the proverbial key into the back seat, and he huffs out a little smile, knowing that he’d never get you to budge on something.

“I told you already, it’s a surprise.” You’re stubborn, and that’s something that Paterson has always loved about you in return, you don’t shy away from things you want, and you don’t give up or back down in anything. Even surprise dates. You fight a grin when you see the GPS grow closer and closer to the destination, “Make a right at this light.”

It was your turn to pick what sort of activity you and Pat should do for your Sunday date. Every week you alternated, each taking the other on some sort of new experience or adventure. They weren’t always surprises, but you really think you’ve hit the jackpot with this one, so you wanted to build suspense.

“Can I have a hint?” He turns his puppy dog eyes towards you for a moment, but the look on your face is enough to get him laughing at his own effort. He makes the right turn, and the two of you are presented with a gorgeous and very old looking building, making his eyes light up with, “Oh! Is this…?”

You simply nod, and Paterson does his best to park the car without any issues, the sooner he can find a spot the sooner you two can go inside.

The library is the oldest in the town, dating back to the 19th century. Some areas of it have of course been modernized, but the further up the stairs you go, the more reminiscent of those years it becomes. You and Paterson walk up up up the stairs, hand in hand, until you stop on a floor where only whispering is allowed.

“I thought you might like to see some of the special collections.” You say with a smile, giving an affectionate squeeze of his hand.

“Lead the way.” Paterson’s heart jumps in his throat, and he can’t help but think how lucky he is to be with you, wondering what sort of exhibit the special collections must have to attract your attention.

He finds out soon enough, when a little poster advertises the collection of first edition poetry books by those who called New Jersey home. Paterson holds his breath as he approaches the books which have been lovingly curated, laid out on tables, gloves next to them so people can leaf through the pages.

He recognizes all the names, Walt Whitman and Allen Ginsberg, C.K. Williams and Robery Pinsky, Amiri Baraka and of course, William Carlos Williams; so many famous and inspirational words written on paper right before his very eyes, some even signed by the authors themselves.

“(Y/N), this is…” Paterson feels his eyes sting with unshed tears, growing emotional both from being in the presence of greatness, but also for the fact that you thought to bring him here. “Thank you.”

“Will you read some of them to me?” You ask shyly, knowing that Paterson was never one to really read his own poetry out loud. You hoped maybe if it were someone else’s words, words he probably already had memorized anyway, he’d be inclined. “We can’t take them out of this room, but that’s okay, there’s a nook in the corner we can sit at.”

Paterson simply nods, kisses your cheek sweetly, a shy display of affection in a mostly empty room.

“I’d love to.” He says, putting on a pair of gloves and picking up a fragile copy of something you don’t recognize.

And as you lead him over to the nook where you grow cozy together on plush couches, you know that when he says it, he’s really saying I love _you._


End file.
